


you can call it a date, mate

by Javrt



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e15 Necromancing the Stone, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex, Premature Ejaculation, dungeons and dragons but make it homoerotic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 17:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21449797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Javrt/pseuds/Javrt
Summary: "Maybe we can… grab a beer?""Make it two pints and a whiskey chaser and I'm in," John says. "You can call it a date, mate."
Relationships: John Constantine/Gary Green
Comments: 5
Kudos: 105





	you can call it a date, mate

**Author's Note:**

> just a self indulgent "the virgin gary" explanation. 
> 
> comments are always appreciated ❤

"Gary, mate! Do us a favor and portal and uh, portal us back to my flat, would you?"

John practically winks as he says it, striding towards Gary, trench coat billowing behind him. _Portal **us**_.

"Maybe we can… grab a beer?"

And oh, Gary hopes that came out sounding more flirty than desperate. It took him all day to come up with a line that casual.

"Make it two pints and a whiskey chaser and I'm in," John sniffs, moves to stand closer to Gary, unbelievably nonchalant. "You can call it a date, mate."

Gary's mouth hangs open a moment. He laughs, flustered and in disbelief, and portals the two of them back to John's apartment.

* * *

"Drinks were a brilliant idea, squire," John reclines in his seat, holding out his glass to toast. "Especially after today. Cheers."

It's still only midday on Earth, outside the timeless limbo of the Waverider. They've accomplished a few days worth of work, it seems, but the sun still shines in through John's apartment window like they'd only been gone a few hours. Which, Gary supposes, they had.

They sit on John's couch together, and Gary has made sure they stay on opposite ends, keeping his distance on purpose. He's all too aware of his tendency to disregard personal space, and the last thing he needs is to blow this date. _Date._ When was the last time Gary Green went on a date?

Gary eagerly clinks his glass against John's, grinning ear to ear. "To stopping demons and saving our friends!"

John laughs, and he downs the last of his whiskey. Gary had decided to opt out on the strong stuff and stick to his beer, but John is still going hard, drink after drink.  
Gary watches him, tries not to stare at the way John's lips curl around his cigarette, sipping his own beer periodically as John clicks through television channels. He lands on one of those ghost hunting shows, the kind that only play on the History channel, and snorts.

"These are absolute bollocks, you know," He says, putting out his cigarette against the table. "Bunch of bloody amateurs."

He lights a new one, exhales, smoke filling the small space between them, and Gary suppresses a cough. Not that he minds. If it were anyone else, he would undoubtedly be giving a lecture on the dangers of smoking by now - but John just looks so _cool_ doing it.

Gary nods, only half watching the ghost hunters on the television. He sets his beer down and folds his hands in his lap, body stiff, glancing awkwardly over at John.

He takes another swig of whiskey, and Gary watches his throat bob as he swallows.

John catches his eye. He quirks his lips, grinning almost mischievously, and Gary can't help but grin back.

Why someone as incredibly cool as John is _willingly_ spending time with Gary is beyond him. Even if they've both done far more drinking than talking.  
"So," Gary speaks up after a bout of silence between them. He stops, unsure of how to continue. What sort of small talk do you make with John Constantine? Gary's not a ghost hunter, or demonologist, or a magician. The only demons and magic he's familiar with live inside his Dungeons and Dragons sessions. He glances to his phone for inspiration, a _"D&D Night!!!"_ calendar notification hovering on his lock screen.

He holds his breath.

It's worth a shot.

"You ever role-play?"

"Role-play?" John shoots him a sly look, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you know. Coming up with a character, sort of acting them out. It's fun."

"No, I know, love," John twirls his cigarette between his fingers. "Just never took you for a kinky one, is all."

"Kink- Oh! Oh, no!" Gary laughs too loudly, waving his hands in defense. "Dungeons and Dragons! Dungeons and Dragons, I meant, I mean, I... I'm a virgin."

The words roll out of his mouth without filter, and he cringes at himself. _I'm a virgin._ Of course you are, Gary. You're rambling about Dungeons and Dragons for the third time today, aren't you?

John laughs - but it's not cruel. He looks at Gary almost fondly, shaking his head.

John props his head up on his hand, elbow against the back of the couch, and he speaks again.

"No, I've never played," He answers, looking Gary up and down not-so-subtly. "Why?"

Gary mimics John's position, quickly regaining some confidence.

"Our weekly session is tonight, I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to come hang out with us?"

John looks at Gary like he expects him to continue.

"By all means, you don't have to! But you're a real warlock, which is _so_ cool, by the way, and I just thought maybe-"

"Sounds fun," John claps his hands together. "And mindless. I'm in as long as you'll have me, squire."

Gary laughs in relief, turning back to the television with a giddy grin on his face. Someone on Ghost Nabbers is discussing exorcisms, and Gary revels in the knowledge that he's been closer to a real demon than they have. That simply being in this apartment full of magical knickknacks is probably more exciting than anything Gary has ever done in his life, prior to today.

"Great," Gary says, stilling his bouncing leg. "To be honest, I thought you were just gonna laugh at me for even asking."

John hums in acknowledgement, and scoots in closer to Gary.

"Not to worry, love. I'm interested in watching you play." John says, and that must've come out sexier than he meant it to. He throws an arm around the back of the couch, leaning back into it. "You're a virgin, then? Really?"

Gary's face flushes, stomach dropping. He had almost forgotten he brought it up. Stupid, _stupid_ Gary.

"I, uh... You can forget I mentioned it."

"Not a problem. Just curious." John holds up his hands in defense. "It's surprising - with your good looks and all."

Gary laughs, already flustered, pushing his glasses back up his nose. He assumes John is lying out of pity, but it still feels nice to know he cares enough to try.

"Well, thank you."

John pats him on the shoulder, but doesn't remove his hand for a good second. Gary looks to him, meeting his face. He looks expecting, staring at Gary with a glint in his dark eyes that he can't explain. He swallows thickly.

"Ever kissed anyone before today, then?" John asks.

Gary thinks. There had been a few people. The rabbi's daughter in junior high. His prom date in high school. A drunken (but only partially regrettable) night with his college roommate. And, of course, now there was John.

It was hardly a real kiss he tells himself, John was just a little over excited. Yet it still managed to do more for him than his first kiss. Or his second. He looks at John's mouth, quirked into that awkward grin of his.

_Dammit. _

"A few people," Gary answers honestly. "But, uh, it's been a while."

"News to me," John raises a hand to cradle Gary's face, running a thumb just underneath his bottom lip.

Gary's breath catches, grinning stupidly as he balls his fists to keep calm. John gives his cheek a pat for good measure, and to Gary's disappointment, retreats back almost immediately.

"What time is this Dungeons and Dragons session, then?" John asks, turning back to the TV and flicking through a few channels like he hadn't just tricked Gary into expecting a second kiss. He takes a moment to recuperate.

"Dungeons- oh, yeah, 10. 10 o'clock tonight. Bring your own snacks! Or- don't, if you don't like snacks."

"Sounds good, love," John decides on turning the TV off, tossing the remote to the coffee table. "Let me catch a few winks first and I'll see you then, yeah? Long day. Don't be afraid to portal in whenever."

He finishes his sentence with a wink and a click of his tongue. He gives Gary's thigh a squeeze, and Gary stands, head spinning. He waves goodbye, turning on his time courier, and in a flash of light, he's gone.

* * *

"John?"

Gary is back in John's tiny apartment, already wearing his Dungeons and Dragons cloak over his work clothes. He feels a little silly, but he had picked up an extra one for John, and thought he might ask if he wants to match.

That is, if John is even here.

The apartment is deathly silent. Not that there's usually much going on around here, as long as John is alone. But it worries Gary anyway. In John's line of work, who knows what could've popped up now? He could be captured by a monster, or a demon! He could've had to run off for some emergency exorcism, like the one on TV earlier.

Or maybe he just realized he doesn't want to play a nerdy fantasy game with Gary.

Actually, that's most likely.

Gary sighs, but he's not deterred yet. A quick glance around first, he decides. And then if John really did leave, there's no point in pestering him any further. Gary knows how to take a hint. He wanders through the apartment, resisting the urge to touch any of the magical artifacts lying about - from "eye of newt" jars to a golden helmet that seems to call out to him. But he's trying to impress John, isn't he? Staying professional is first priority.

Gary finds John's room empty, his bed unmade and windows open. There's a few articles of clothing strewn on the floor - socks, shirts, underwear - and interestingly, John's trench coat. Gary picks it up, looking it over a few times before raising it to his face and inhaling.

So much for professional.

It smells like cigarettes, sage, and a musky cologne masking how unwashed it is. It's not _entirely_ unpleasant. He decides to keep it with him.

"John?" Gary calls, looking under a few blankets and kicking around some dirty laundry. "It's D&D time, if you're here somewhere-"

The bathroom door opens with a creak, making Gary drop the coat, and John steps out. He's drying his hair with one end of a towel, keeping the other end wrapped lazily around his waist and draped over his crotch. It hardly covers anything.

Gary yelps, covering his eyes and turning away, apologizing at a mile a minute. _Way to go, Gary!_

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, love," John touches his shoulder gently, and Gary opens an eye. He's properly wrapped up now, still shirtless with the towel tied around his waist. "My fault. I'm running a little late."

Gary sighs in relief, turning to face John head-on.

"And don't feel bad if you caught a glimpse of anything," John winks. "I'm not exactly shy."

_That_ sends Gary's heart racing, even without the wink, and he laughs, nervous and breathy.

"No, I... I didn't see anything. Are you ready to go?"

He realizes the obliviousness in his question the second it leaves his mouth.

"Well, not unless you want me showing up like this," John motions to his towel. "Give me a couple minutes, love. I'll be ready."

Gary smiles, nodding and jerking his head away again when John drops the towel. He stares at a spot of peeling wallpaper, using a hand to shield his view as John shuffles around the room. A mirror above a dresser catches his eye for a moment. At this angle, he can see John in it anywhere in the room. He wills himself not to watch through it.

Although, John _didn't_ seem to mind.

Maybe a peek won't hurt.

And so he glances to the mirror, catching a reflection of John faced away from him. He's got a wrinkled dress shirt and socks on now, but still no pants or underwear, digging through a pile of clean laundry. He's bent forward slightly, and it's too good a view, Gary thinks, trying to drag his eyes away.

It doesn't work.

John throws a tie around his neck and finds a pair of black briefs, tugging them up tightly over the curve of his ass. He adjusts the elastic waistband then moves on to pants, and finally Gary convinces himself to stop staring.

Too late, though. He's pretty sure he's already the world's biggest pervert.

"Ready, squire?" John touches the small of Gary's back, and Gary jumps.

"Of course!" He grins too widely, trying not to look suspicious, and switches on his time courier.

D&D date night. Just be your charming self, Gary. No big deal.

He sighs.

"Off we go!"

* * *

They sit with Gary's friends in a circle on the floor, surrounded by candles and throw pillows. John sits directly across from Gary, not wearing the cloak he had offered him, but looking like he's having fun nonetheless.

"Are you ready to embark on a mission _most_ deadly?"

John gingerly takes the 20-sided die from Gary's outstretched palm, and gives him an almost filthy look. He wonders only for a moment if his friends notice.

"Well, tonight squire," John says, a smile playing on his lips. "I'm all yours."

* * *

The game goes... surprisingly well.

John's character narrowly escapes death a few times, and the team is that much closer to defeating the final boss Gary has planned for them.

And John's presence certainly makes things interesting.

Candles flicker and dice change value, and Gary knows John is trying to impress him and his friends.

It's working.

His friends leave, amazed, convinced that Gary was telling the truth about knowing a real life warlock. It's a nice feeling, but Gary has hardly been able to focus on it. It's hard when John has been giving him that _look_ the entire game.

Gary can't say for certain what the look is, or what it means. But it's smoldering, and it stirs something in his stomach too distracting to play an attentive game. Not that he really minds.

Gary sits on the couch after the game and pops open a beer, kicking off his shoes and throwing his Dungeon Master robe aside. John drops down next to him, much closer than they had been earlier that day. But it's John's decision this time, and Gary doesn't dare move.

"So what'd you think?" Gary passes an open beer to John, who pours a good amount of God-knows-what from his flask into the bottle before taking a swig.

"_Bloody_ good time, squire," John raises his bottle. "Even better than I thought it would be."

Gary grins, looking down at his lap. He can't tell if John is telling the truth, but it's nice to hear either way. And with the amount of magic he had used tonight, maybe he is being honest.

"I knew you'd have fun!" Gary leans back against the couch. "And the magic tricks were a _very_ nice touch, might I add."

"Oh, please," John scoffs. He pulls out a cigarette, placing it between his lips and passing the lighter to Gary. Gary understands, flicking it on and leaning in close. He cups his palm over the flame and looks up to meet John's eyes. He's watching him intently, a smug look on his face. Gary swallows. "S'pose I was just trying to seduce you."

Gary laughs in instinct, before absorbing what John has said.

_Oh. _

His heart sinks.

"You're making fun of me," Gary smiles, despite a well of tears already threatening to push their way out. "You're being put up to this, aren't you? By who? Ava? Sara? I knew it. I knew it, I-"

"Gary, love," John raises his hands in defense."Hey, it's alright."

Gary opens his mouth to protest, when John takes Gary's chin between his thumb and index finger, turning him so they face each other.

"I'm not being put up to _anything_."

Gary shouldn't be convinced, he knows, but John is gazing at him with those impossibly dark eyes, and it turns his stomach. John's fingers are firm, holding him in place, his jaw clenched. He blinks stupidly in response.

"You don't believe me," John says, smiling crookedly, and it's so much more attractive than it has any right to be. He really does sound genuine - like he's been flirting because he wants to, and not as some twisted tactic to prevent Gary from sabotaging the next mission. He puts his cigarette out on the table. "Let me prove it to you."

Gary thinks about turning away, but his eyes are helplessly fluttering shut as John tips his chin and brings their mouths together.

It's deep, so much deeper than their first kiss, John's lips sliding as Gary tries desperately to keep up.

A hand finds Gary's hip as John’s lips part ever so slightly, warm breath being shared. Gary forces his mouth not to gape.

John pulls back, and they're both panting hard already. 

"This alright, love?" He asks, voice low, tugging at the lapels of Gary's time bureau suit jacket. Gary nods frantically, helping to slide the jacket off his arms and onto the floor.

"Good," John throws his arms around Gary's neck, eyes hazy as he leans in again. Before Gary can even fully comprehend the last one, he's pulled into another kiss, a tongue trying to slip between his lips this time, and that's _definitely_ new.

Unsurprisingly, John tastes like cigarettes, running a velvet-soft tongue along Gary's parted lips. He makes a small noise, letting John into his mouth, unsure of how to return the gesture. He settles for sliding his tongue along John's bottom lip, which seems to have been the right course of action. John removes his coat hurriedly, tossing it to the floor and returning his hands to Gary's curls.

John breaks away only to push Gary back against the arm of the couch, laying so that John can straddle and kiss him at the same time. It's amazing, if a bit awkward, grinding up against John’s clothed erection while hot kisses get trailed along his jawline.

Gary tugs at John's tie, grounding himself, and John sucks what will undoubtedly end up a hickey on his neck.

_What will Ava have to say about a hickey, Gary?!_ A more rational side of him tries to protest. But it's hardly worth the effort. Not with John's hands on his chest like that, or his tongue lapping at his pulse point. Any thoughts about Ava, or work, or demons or death totems or time travel - are proving to be utterly meaningless for once. It's a change of pace that Gary welcomes.

They're both fully hard now, Gary can feel it, hot friction between them, and he throws his head back. He's panting so hard his throat stings from only _this_, and he whines. John fumbles a little, beginning to unbuckle Gary's belt.

Gary can do nothing now but breathe, a mantra of _"John, John, John,"_ between heaving sighs, clutching at his ass, pressing him closer. John makes a low noise in his throat at the contact. He pulls Gary's pants down and off, boxers left on, keeping him firmly pinned down against the couch.

Anxiety tells Gary he's not ready for this, he's never done this before, but his common sense argues to relax and let it _happen_. He's never been kissed like this, definitely never by someone like John, and pushing him away now would be a mistake.

John swipes a rough thumb over Gary's cheek, sensing his worry, and his nerves ease. Staring down at him, his pupils are blown wide, making his already dark irises look black. His mouth hangs open just slightly, and Gary can feel warm puffs of breath even from down here. He's impossibly handsome, Gary thinks, pushing his glasses up his nose and smiling in a way that he can tell didn't come off as sexy as he hoped it would. John doesn't care, or even seem to notice, his breath hitching as their hips suddenly rock together.

"_Jesus,_" John finally speaks, and Gary can only nod.

They rock again, and John leans down, pressing their foreheads together. Gary lets a humiliating groan slip out.

"Doing alright, love?" John asks, locked in a steady grind.

"Good," Gary manages through uneven breaths. "Really, really good."

"Good," John echoes, kisses him again, and it's almost tender this time. Gary's chest flutters.

John is taking off his own pants now, stripping down to those tight little black briefs that compliment him so well. Gary rests a hand on his ass, trying not to grab too harshly as he holds John's hips in place.

John pushes himself back into Gary's hand, encouraging him to squeeze tighter, back arching in a move Gary might not ever stop thinking about. Gary grips John harder, ruts up against his erection, now with less barrier between them, pleading for more under harsh breaths.

John leans down, caressing Gary's face as he kisses him again, slowly unbuttoning Gary's shirt. He slides his hand inside, teases a nipple between two fingers, catching Gary's startled moan in his mouth.

Gary writhes as John grinds down into him, hands splayed across his chest. The pressure is so much already, almost too much - and when he reaches out for John's tie, he realizes he can't feel his own hands.

Gary's hands have gone completely numb. Right now, of all times. He ignores it for a few moments, before it turns to sharp pins and needles, like he's been laying on top of them for too long, and he slowly pushes John off of him.

"My hands are asleep," He explains, trying not to sound too humiliated. "I'm sorry, I- I have _terrible_ circulation." 

John pulls back. His hair is rumpled and his shirt hangs half open, sparse chest hair peeking through. Gary kicks himself for not letting them continue.

"Not a problem, mate," John pants, pressing a thumb to Gary's bottom lip and looking only a little disappointed. "Just let me know if you're done."

Gary breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth, trying to get his body back to normal. He's never felt so stupid. John crawls off the couch, standing over Gary, checking his watch periodically. Gary pans his eyes up over John’s body. He's eye-level with the crotch of John's tented briefs, he realizes, mouth going dry.

His heart races a little.

Gary reaches out without giving it much thought, hand hovering just in front of John's erection.

"Can I, uh," He motions vaguely. "Can I see you?"

"Be my guest, squire," John smiles, runs his hand down the back of Gary's neck, and Gary shivers. He runs a thumb over the rigid outline in John's briefs.

John whines softly, pressing into it, and Gary is more eager than ever. He tugs away John's underwear, letting his cock spring free, and sits back against the couch to take it in.

John is _hard_, flushed and shiny-wet with precome already. Gary's own hips beg for friction at the sight. But his hands are still numb, and he knows better than to agitate that any further.

Gary looks up to John's face - for permission, he supposes - and John gives him a little nod. Gary's jaw clenches. It's exciting, being in this position, but it doesn't make him any less clueless. What did John even want, exactly? He reaches out, praying it's the right move, and runs an index finger down his shaft. John squirms, grabbing a hold of Gary's hair and whispering something encouraging under his breath. It's an unexpected response, but Gary isn't about to complain.

Maybe he can do this. Just a handjob, right? Basically the same as masturbating. How hard can it be?

Gary starts at the head, spreading precome with a careful thumb, over a thrumming vein and down to the base of John's cock. He wraps a loose ring of fingers around him, pumping him slow, drawing out needy noises that make his stomach coil tight. For his first time, this doesn't seem too bad.

John seems to agree. He thrusts into Gary's fist, looking down into his eyes, caressing his face in hand.

Gary adds a second hand, cupping his balls and pressing his face into John's palm like he needs to be pet.

"Just like that, love," John encourages, placing his free hand over Gary's, guiding him in all the right ways.

Gary looks away from him, cheeks burning. He runs his thumb back up over John's slit, eliciting a new sound from above him. Something between a whine and a choke. It sounds like a good thing.

Gary looks at his wet fingers, numbness almost worn off now, and a new idea overtakes him. He puts his fingers to his lips and licks them clean, looking up into John's face as he does, feeling absolutely lewd. For a moment he thinks it might be too much, but John's chest heaves, and he looks at him with more interest than anyone's ever looked at Gary.

Gary's tongue lolls, even as he pulls his fingers away, and he experimentally leans forward, laying a hand on the curve of John's hip. It doesn't take John long to catch on.

"You don't have to do that if you don't want to, love," John says softly, voice wrecked. "If it's too much, you don't have to- _ah_-"  
John cuts himself off when Gary presses his tongue flat to the head of his cock, and John rocks his hips, groaning so deeply Gary can feel it.

Gary considers John's words, thinks he probably has a point, but the notion is too tempting to resist. John is by no means that big, and it's not like he's about to try deepthroating, anyway. Not with a gag reflex as bad as his circulation.

So Gary continues with just his tongue, circling his head, pressing a few kisses to the underside of John's cock. He looks up through heavy eyelids, hoping for encouragement, and he's rewarded. John's face is contorted, eyes shut tight and mouth hanging open as Gary's lips tease him.

John's eyes flutter open, watching Gary with a burning intensity, and he strokes Gary's cheek ever so gently.

"Open," He rasps, somewhere between a suggestion and a command, taking his own cock in hand and pressing it up against Gary's parted lips. Gary's stomach turns pleasantly. He obeys, watching out for his teeth, and John slides the head of his cock against his tongue, drawing out a long groan. He doesn't thrust deep, just as far as Gary can stick his tongue out, and he appreciates the restraint.

John whines above him, making vulgar noises and holding onto Gary's hair like his life depends on it. There's something so entirely satisfying about the way John uses him now, ruts against his tongue, saliva threatening to drip over Gary's lips. His jaw already aches in the most pleasant way possible.  
Gary seals his lips a moment, swallowing around John, and he sighs. His head is foggy, though he can't quite place why, high on lack of oxygen.

Streams of curses and pet names fall from John's mouth, wringing his fingers in Gary's hair. And then he must do something right, because John practically jolts, and Gary's afraid he's hurt him for a moment. But John's hands say otherwise, shakily pushing Gary's head in place. Drool runs over his chin, his mouth held open, letting John use his tongue as he pleases.

John's grunts grow louder, more frequent, mumbling something along the lines of "Where on earth did you learn _that_?".

Gary doesn't answer, of course, not in his current position. What would he even say? He could always lie, say he has experience - but he'd already confessed to being a virgin. He could tell the truth and say Rebecca Silver's latest novel had a very informative scene in it, one that he took several mental notes over, just in case, but that would sound pathetic. So he says nothing, just laves his tongue carefully, trying to elicit more of those little noises he's getting himself off on.  
Gary wraps a fist around the base of John's cock, pumping him slowly as he laps at the head, salty and bitter against his tongue. He looks up at John, eyes wide, and John runs a hand through his hair.

It's gentle - it's _too_ gentle - and Gary's stomach burns. He can feel himself, achingly hard and leaking, trying to press himself into the couch for any sort of relief, but he gets distracted once again when John tugs his hair back.

"Gary, love," He pants, forcing Gary's mouth off of him with a lewd, wet noise. "I'm close."

Gary considers this a moment, his head too hazy to think straight, then realizes what John is telling him. He sits back on the couch, wipes his mouth clean with the back of his hand, and watches John finish himself off in just a couple strokes. He curses, voice breaking desperately in his throat, doubled over and moaning loud enough Gary is positive the neighboring apartment can hear it.

Gary watches like it's the most enthralling thing he's ever seen (it might _be_), focused on the way John's fingers move, the way they look wrapped himself, glistening with come as he spills over himself, and Gary hopes to God John will give him the same treatment.

John’s chest heaves a moment, heavy breaths housing the occasional groan. Gary sits, watching him, and he raises a wet hand to lick his fingers clean.

John's eyes are on him and he knows it, watching Gary suck a finger clean of him, making an obscene noise in his throat.

"_Fuck_," John says, dragging Gary up to him by his hair, and kissing him desperately.

Gary can only respond with a pathetic "_Mmm_," allowing himself to be pushed back onto the couch as John crawls on top of him. Gary wonders briefly what kind of _stamina_ this man must have.

"Your turn, then?" John smirks, and Gary nods vigorously.

"Please."

John pins Gary's hands above his head, against the arm of the couch, and continues kissing him.

With only his boxers on, Gary is _straining_, and John is kind enough to grope him through the thin fabric. Gary ruts into his palm, sighing against his mouth and throwing his arms around John's neck.

"Eager," John mutters, a smile in his tone even as Gary's eyes are shut, and he nods. John plants a kiss against his throat. "I'll be quick."

Gary's hips roll, pressed against John’s warm palm, and it's like nothing he's ever felt.

He can't believe he's been too scared to try this his entire life.

He can't believe his first time is with _John Constantine_.

"Inside me - Please," Gary pants, holding onto the back of John's head. "Fingers, anything, I don't care, _Please_,"

John shushes him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and Gary thrusts against him. "Patient," He says, voice low. "We'll get there."

It's _good_, even still partially clothed, and Gary imagines how much better it would be with John inside him - legs in the air, rhythmic thrusts, pounding into him. He involuntarily clenches at the thought.

John takes a handful of Gary's ass in his free hand, spreading him out. A thumb brushes his perineum, and Gary can't tell if it's intentional or not.

"_God_\- John-" Gary practically whimpers, shuddering, and John kisses him roughly on the mouth.

Gary darts his tongue out, and John meets it with his own, lapping into his mouth and pushing his glasses nearly clear off his face.

"_John_," Gary repeats, louder this time, drawing out his name with a high pitched moan. He clings to John's bicep, digging dull nails into him, tossing his head back.

"I know, love," John looks down at him, pupils still blown and lips shiny-red with spit, eyes locked on his. "Keep going."

Gary wraps a leg around John's back, craning his neck to welcome more rough kisses, mouth agape. John is practically jacking him off _through_ his boxers, skilled fingers working themselves over him, doing something impossibly good with his thumb and index finger-

And then Gary is coming, crying out, underwear and glasses still on. He hardly has time to register what's happening through the euphoria.

Fire sits in his lower stomach for the next few moments, regaining his awareness and opening his eyes to John's face above him.

John doesn't quite look disappointed - but he certainly looks surprised.

"Sorry," Gary huffs, still catching his breath, letting an arm fall off the side of the couch. "I wasn't expecting… Uh."

"Not a problem," John releases Gary's wrists, letting his arms fall over John's shoulders. "I think we both got a little over-eager there."

Gary nods, head still half clouded over.

"Good, then?" John asks, pulling his own underwear back up his thighs.

"Good," Gary can still hardly move, letting an arm fall to hang off the side of the couch. He's sticky, a wet spot visible in the fabric at his crotch, and he groans a little when he palms at it.

He lays there a moment, staring at the ceiling light, aware that John has lit another cigarette just from the smell. _If there was ever a time to smoke_, he supposes.  
Gary cranes his neck, watching John's back from where he sits on the arm of the couch. He gives him a gentle kick, waits for him to turn, and outstretches a hand.

"Help me up?"

John does, pulling Gary up to his feet and offering him a cigarette. Gary politely refuses.

John blows a puff of smoke as he takes Gary's spot, stretched out on the couch, and Gary knows his apartment is going to smell like tobacco for a while. He's not sure it's a bad thing.

"Guess I'm not a virgin anymore," Gary laughs, wringing his hands, trying to fill the silence. "So that's... cool."

"Well, yes and no," John says, not bothering to open his eyes. "According to pretty much all laws of magic, nothing's changed. But, uh, maybe we can fix that for you next time, yeah?"

"We- yeah! Um. Yeah, definitely."

"Sounds good, love," John yawns, almost exaggerated, and rolls over onto his side. "G'night, then."

"Oh, you know, my bed is big enough for both of us if you wanted to come with me-" Gary cuts himself off when he realizes John is asleep, arm dangling off the couch and a cigarette still between his fingers.

Gary sighs, picking up a blanket to wear to bed. He'd known John was like this - he had overheard enough of the speech he gave Sara. He and John are hardly friends. This didn't mean anything.

But as Gary walks back to his room, blanket pulled tightly around him, he can't help but feel a peculiar warmth bubble up in his chest.

_Next time._


End file.
